The Legend and the Man Pt1 To Fool the Enemy
by Siean Riley
Summary: NWZ – When Zorro loses all hope of salvation, Victoria still holds on to it. But will this be enough to save him? First in a series of tales about Zorro and Victoria.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own characters and I don't make any profits on writing.

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 **A/N** : My adventure with New World Zorro started with this story. This is an AU which started before the last four episodes of second serie and grew into a long story.  
I want to thank Arianka again for dragging me into this fandom some time ago.

My special thanks go to dizzy fire, who did something I considered impossible and translated this story.

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CHAPTER ONE

The beauty of a sword lies in its simplicity. A straight blade, perfectly combining strength with flexibility, a plain guard to provide protection, faint notches on the silver smoothness of metal marking the memory of past skirmishes... That's all there is to it, and nothing more is needed. A naked blade is a hypnotic sight, especially in the hand of a skilful swordsman.

And this particular sword was especially impressive. Not because it was so clean and well-maintained that its blade shone like cloudless sky in the light of day. Not because of the way in which the hilt, currently held by a black-gloved hand, reflected the blinding glare of the midday sun. Not even because the hand in question happened to belong to an extraordinarily skilled swordsman. No – in the mind of Luis Ramone, _alcalde_ of Los Angeles, all these reasons paled into insignificance when weighted against the fact that the point of said sword was at the moment gently but firmly pressed into his neck. He swallowed convulsively, trying to hide how dry his mouth had gone, and felt the touch of surprisingly cold metal against his windpipe.

Right then and there, that touch was almost the limit of the _alcalde's_ world. There was still some room left for the tickling of sweat drops on his forehead, for the bite of a too-tight collar and the unpleasant dampness of the shirt sticking to his back, but even so, his eyes took in nothing but a blurry dark mass cut in two by the blue streak of a sword, and his ears – nothing but the faraway din of the pueblo marketplace. A din that was, at the moment, rather subdued, as the people waited and watched to see what would happen next.

"So then, _alcalde_..." an amused voice cut through the ringing in Ramone's ears. "Perhaps you'll agree to reconsider?"

Luis Ramone raised his eyes from the blade, so distressingly close to his throat, and further up, towards the rider whose hand held the sword. New beads of sweat trickled down his back when he realised that, despite the laughter in his voice, the swordsman was not smiling at all. Quite on the contrary, this time he appeared to be furious. The _alcalde_ understood that his ostensible good humour was an offer – a chance for him to give in and save at least some face. And that, should he persist, things may yet take a turn for the worse.

"I, ah... " He choked. The blade moved aside a fraction. He swallowed hard, again, and gave it another try. "I agree!" he announced.

The answer was a general cheer. The sword was removed from the _alcalde's_ throat, but before he could do anything with his new-found freedom, the rider moved in a flash, so that Ramone was now standing close to his booted foot, with his back against the horse's flank. The horse's sweaty flank, even, as Luis noticed in disgust. He couldn't move away – the blade now rested close to the crook of his neck, forcing him to press against the horse. From this vantage point he had an excellent view of the square, now filled with cheering people. Certainly not cheering for their _alcalde_ , he thought, as the terror of a few moments ago drained away, leaving only bitter hatred in its wake. For a moment he hoped that the situation might still be salvaged. However, when one of the lancers raised his rifle uncertainly, Ramone realised that he himself might be hit just as easily as his captor, so he was relieved to see that another soldier, obviously a brighter sort than his comrade, grabbed the barrel and forced it downwards.

He was helpless, then. He stood there in sweltering heat, waiting patiently for the imprisoned peons to emerge from the _cuartel_ gate. He remained standing as three _caballeros_ , assisted by Sergeant Mendoza, brought in a reinforced chest from his own office. When they raised the lid, he made as if to protest, but no sooner had he moved than the sword slid a little closer to his neck, reminding him about his current predicament. He had to clench his fists and bear it when the chest was opened and the money inside distributed among the peons. That fat, treacherous oaf Mendoza smiled brightly as each man scribbled a sign in a heavy book of receipts held by Don Sebastian. The other soldiers huddled together, unsure if they should try to stop the proceedings somehow, or beat a retreat to the safety of the _cuartel_. In the meantime overturned stalls were fixed, scattered vegetables were picked up, a few runaway chickens were chased down and returned to their coop – in a word, the usual order of things was restored. Naturally, there was also whooping and chattering, and laughter that grew louder by the moment. The target of those jokes was most likely himself, the _alcalde_ of Los Angeles, currently held captive by the man known as Zorro – an impudent outlaw, a rebel, and the self-appointed defender of the law and of the pueblo's inhabitants. And all the while he, Luis Ramone, could only stand there and sweat, getting smacked by the horse's tail from time to time, forced to listen both to the sounds of general cheer and to the whispered conversation behind his back. Zorro seemed to care nothing at all about the heat, his prisoner or the soldiers, as he blithely flirted with Señorita Victoria Escalante, the owner of the local tavern. From what he was telling her, it seemed that some stolen kisses might be on the cards for later, but the pressure of his sword on the _alcalde's_ neck never wavered.

Once the last peon had rejoined the crowd, Zorro finally released his captive.

"Here's something to remember this by, _alcalde_." His words were accompanied by the sound of ripping cloth. "So that you don't make the same mistake again."

Luis's elegant waistcoat was ruined, torn to shreds by the great "Z" that Zorro had cut into it. The sight, coupled with an ironic salute from the outlaw, caused the _alcalde's_ ire to explode.

"Shoot him!" he screamed as Zorro galloped for the pueblo gate. "Shoot him! Kill him!" The last vestiges of reason reminded him to drop to the ground and out of the way.

At the gate, directly underneath the sign that said "Los Angeles", Zorro's horse spun in a jaunty levade when the volley of shots rang out. His black cloak waving in the wind, the outlaw disappeared among the trees that lined the sides of the road, long before the first soldiers rode out from the _cuartel_ gates. They weren't in too much of a hurry. Every soldier in Los Angeles had long ago learned that chasing Zorro was like chasing the wind – both these activities being similarly exhausting and unprofitable.

And no one – no soldier, no peon or _caballero_ , not the fuming _alcalde,_ nor even Señorita Escalante – no one at all noticed that when the shots had been fired, Zorro had swayed in his saddle for just a brief moment...

X X X

It had all begun in a perfectly innocent manner. A few hot weeks in the spring caused one of the nearby streams to dry out, which resulted in conflicts between the owners of some smaller haciendas about the distribution of watering places for their cattle. The strife tended to be limited in scope and rather low-key, fortunately cut short by the coming of the rain, but the problem of the drying stream remained. It was discussed far and wide, both in the haciendas and over cups of excellent wine at Victoria's tavern. At first all anyone wanted was to settle where each herd ought properly to be taken in the case of another draught, but the young de la Vega, who had brought home a few coffers' worth of books from his studies in Spain, and who was always eager to bend everyone's ears about some innovation or another, proposed a more radical solution. If they built a small dam in an arroyo downstream of the pueblo, he assured them, the fallow land would turn into a lake that would provide a water reserve for the surrounding area, sufficient to withstand even a much longer draught.

At first most tended to think that Don Diego de la Vega's ideas were bizarre, to say the least. His father's influence was behind him, though, and quite apart from that, it was a known fact that when Don Diego insisted on something, no matter how outlandish, he usually got results. It had been the case when he had convinced folks to spread some kind of foul concoction in their fields, which had surprisingly caused the crops to flourish, or when he had brought in a long-horned bull from the other side of the Rio Grande. This time, then, Diego found it quite easy to talk people into building a dam. In any case, it was unanimously decided that the pueblo's funds should be sufficient to pay both for the materials and for the work, and the local peons could use every peso they would earn.

And so Don Diego designed the dam, his father ordered the necessary materials, a call was put out for the workers... The construction was quickly finished, and when the autumn rains fell, a substantial lake appeared a few miles away from Los Angeles.

If not for the _alcalde_ , things would have been perfect. Since custody of the pueblo money lay with him, he was naturally asked to reimburse the cost of the labour and the materials. Yet Luis Ramone, _alcalde_ of Los Angeles, refused. He did not accede to the first polite request, and he rebuffed the _caballeros'_ subsequent, much less restrained urging. Don Alejandro, the elder of the de la Vega men, would perhaps have given up if the matter concerned him alone, since the cost of the materials was not so great a loss to him, and in any case, he half-suspected that the pueblo treasury might be empty. However, not giving the peon labourers their proper wages would have been unthinkable.

After a number of clashes and arguments, when the _alcalde_ had once again ordered the soldiers to throw the protesters out of the _cuartel_ , Zorro decided to interfere. At first he only retrieved the contents of the pueblo safe and turned them over to the _caballeros_ , so that they would distribute the money as needed. The _alcalde's_ response was to arrest those of the labourers who had arrived to receive their pay. Besides, as Don Alejandro had predicted, the pueblo funds turned out to be quite depleted – much more so, in any case, than one might expect from the amount of money they had earlier paid in taxes. Zorro's second appearance was much more violent than the first. After a series of spectacular clashes with some of the more persistent soldiers, out of which the pueblo marketplace came looking much the worse for wear, Zorro put a sword to the _alcalde's_ throat and ordered the imprisoned peons to be released, and Luis's personal strongbox to be brought out.

Thus the labourers were freed and given their dues, the _alcalde_ spent a few unpleasant moments in the sun and lost his favourite vest and frock coat (which had been soaked through with horse sweat), and Zorro, as always, returned safely to his hiding place.

Or so everyone thought at the time.

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 _To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _Thank you for reviews!_

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CHAPTER TWO

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Señorita Victoria Escalante, the owner of Los Angeles' largest – and only – tavern, sighed and closed the cash box she kept underneath the day had been long, but not unprofitable. After Zorro had solved the issue of the labourers' wages, some of the peons had decided to drink to their good luck at the inn. Other inhabitants of Los Angeles had similarly come to the conclusion that a glass of wine and some gossip were the best way to recover after the latest sensational events. Zorro's antics had been so thrilling this time, and the _alcalde's_ face after being made to part with his money so comical, that the discussions had continued until long after sunset. Victoria was a little surprised that Don Diego had not come to the tavern to celebrate the successful execution of his plan, but Don Alejandro claimed that his son must have gone to check that the dam was working, as he had previously announced. Victoria had missed him that evening. Don Diego, whenever he could be enticed to emerge from behind the book he was reading or the painting he was working on, was a very kind and entertaining guest. Never confident enough in himself, though, as she had could on occasion be decisive, even stubborn, only to give in and retreat for no reason moments later. In addition to that, he seemed to be enamoured of her in his own reticent way. Speaking of which, in the afternoon and later during the evening she had peeked through the kitchen door several times, hoping that Zorro had not yet holed up in his hideout, wherever that was, and that he might still come to visit her. Unfortunately he never appeared either...

Heaving another sigh over the fickleness of her two admirers, Victoria went upstairs, to her room and the secret place under the bed where she hid away the day's earnings every evening. When she opened the door, only the experience of her long association with Zorro prevented her from screaming loudly enough to wake her sleeping guests. That, and the sight of a finger pressed to her visitor's lips in a universal request for silence.

She put the lamp and the cash box on the table before she spoke.

"Felipe?" she asked, lowering her voice. "What are you doing here?" At once she rebuked herself for the stupidity of her question. Felipe, Don Diego's ward and personal servant, was deaf and mute. True, he could use signs and gestures to express himself quite well, but not well enough to answer an enquiry like this.

Felipe hopped off the parapet, caught hold of her sleeve and pulled her towards the door, still gesturing at her to keep silent. She stopped him.

"You're all dirty – what happened to you?" she asked, seeing the dark stains on the boy's light shirt and trousers. "What is this?" She pulled him closer to the table. "Oh!"

In the light of the lamp, the stain on his sleeve turned out to be reddish-brown in colour, stiff and rough to the touch. Felipe's knees, his shirt-front and his sleeves were covered in blood. The need for silence suddenly took on a different meaning.

"How did this happen? Are you wounded? Is Diego in trouble?" she asked feverishly. Felipe made a desperate grimace, as if there was more to it than he could express with his gestures. Once again he tried to drag her towards the door.

"I'm going, I'm going with you!" she promised.

Hectic with worry, Victoria stashed her cash box in its hiding place, grabbed a fresh bed sheet from her coffer and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.

Felipe led her to a shed in the outskirts of the pueblo. She got another shock once she saw the horses tied up behind it. As far as she could tell in the darkness of the night, one of them was Felipe's little pied mare, and the other... was Toronado, Zorro's horse.

"Something happened to Zorro?" she demanded, unable to stop herself from asking. It was the first question that came to her mind. The others, like why Felipe of all people had come to fetch her, could wait until later. The boy's sudden arrival and the bloodstains on his clothes had a new sinister meaning to her now.

In response, Felipe nudged her towards the stallion. For a moment she feared Toronado's reaction, but the horse stood motionless like a statue as she climbed into the saddle and tucked up the folds of her skirt. The boy grabbed Toronado's reins and they were off into the darkness.

She had no idea where they were going. Felipe set a pace so fast that she could only hold on to the saddlebow, watching the boy's shirt flash in and out of the darkness. She knew the area around the pueblo like the back of her own hand, but Felipe was leading her through side paths and little-used trails. She had the unpleasant feeling, even so, that he was heading straight for their destination, and that the hurried pace was a sign of real danger. She knew more or less that they had entered the hills where some of the larger haciendas were located, but she had no way of telling exactly where they were. Finally the boy slowed down and then stopped inside a small arroyo. When she dismounted, he patted Toronado's hindquarters and the horse obediently walked ahead into the darkness. She understood the reason when she saw the animals disappear behind a bend of the path, so rocky and narrow that she could not imagine anyone traversing it in the saddle. Once past the bend, the youth pulled her into a dark, cramped rift in the rock. They walked for several paces before she saw a faraway light down in its depths, cast by a lamp or candle, no doubt. Ahead of her, the horses' hooves clattered over the stones.

The cave was small. Most of the space was taken up by a stable where Toronado had already taken his place by the manger. Off to the side she noticed a brick entryway to another section, which looked more fit for human habitation and was filled with tables and strange equipment. Her attention, however, was drawn to a shape by the entry – a man bundled in blankets and lying on the floor.

"Zorro!" She fell to her knees, drawing the blanket aside.

He lay on his side, curled up. Someone, most likely Felipe, had placed a second blanket and some straw underneath him. She could see why. A tall, strong man like Zorro must have been too heavy for a slim youth to carry anywhere far. Zorro's shirt was torn, a ragged, bloody strip of cloth wrapped around his bare chest. Felipe must have dressed his wounds in frenzied hurry.

Victoria looked around. Dark stains on the floor were a sign of what must have happened. Zorro had been wounded somehow, made his way back to his hideout and collapsed after climbing off his horse. Remembering that last round of shots from the _alcalde's_ soldiers, and how Felipe had been at Don Alejandro's side for most of the afternoon, she shivered. While they were feting their victory, the man they owed it to was bleeding out alone on this stony floor.

But now she was here – now she could help.

"Felipe," she spoke. "Thank you for trusting me. I need your help now, please."

The first thing she did was to get another bundle of hay from underneath Toronado's feeding rack. She wrapped an arm around Zorro's shoulders and pulled him up. On her signal, Felipe placed the hay underneath the blanket, supporting the wounded man and providing some measure of comfort. Later on she would need to move him somehow, she thought – the floor of a cave was not the best place to recover from one's wounds. Zorro moaned weakly. His skin was alarmingly cold and clammy.

"Shh," she whispered. "You should be a little more comfortable now. We'll get those bandages fixed in no time. Felipe," she turned towards the boy, "I will need hot water and a knife to dress his wounds better."

"No," she heard Zorro whisper weakly.

His eyes were open. For a moment it seemed to Victoria that he did not recognise her, but then he smiled a little and caught her hand. She shivered at the feebleness of his touch, so unlike the strong, certain hand she knew. Zorro led her fingers to the back of his head – to the knot of the mask which hid his face.

"Zorro, don't..." she whispered.

"I promised..." he replied, then fell silent for a while, as if to gather his strength. "I made you a promise," he repeated in a quiet yet unwavering voice, "that a day would come when you would see me without the mask. I beg you, forgive me that the day comes today... and take my mask off."

She remembered that promise. With shaking fingers she untied the knot and removed his mask. When the black fabric slid from his face, Zorro sighed, as if relieved.

 _"Madre de Dios!"_ Victoria pressed the fabric to her own face, unable to believe her eyes.

Before her lay Don Diego de la Vega, son of Los Angeles' wealthiest _caballero_ , known for his odd, eccentric ways – the very last man she would have connected with Zorro if she were asked. She briefly thought it must be a joke, some sort of cruel, unhappy prank of Diego's, that had backfired on him for whatever reason, but then the memories returned. How Zorro spoke of having eyes and ears within the pueblo as an explanation for why he always knew what was happening there; how he encouraged her friendship with Diego in spite of all their supposed differences; how she had never, ever seen them together, even though both claimed they were in touch with one another on occasion; and how Zorro had first appeared after Diego's return from Spain. And finally that promise – the promise that was between her and Zorro alone, the promise on which she had wanted to build her future. It all fit.

"Diego... Zorro..." she stammered.

"Forgive me..." he whispered.

"There's nothing to forgive..."

"It's good you're here... I was afraid I might never see you again..."

She put an arm around Diego's – around Zorro's shoulders and lifted him up to lean against her. He breathed a sigh of relief. With effort, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her palm. Victoria hugged him and closed her eyes in a vain effort to keep the tears from coming.

The shiver that ran through Diego brought her out of her reverie.

"I must dress your wounds," she said. "Felipe." The boy kneeling at the wounded man's other side raised his head at once. She felt a momentary surprise that he could hear her, but explanations could wait. "I need hot water. Could you bring me some? And please cut this sheet into strips."

"No," Diego protested.

"What? Why not?"

"I wanted... I only wanted to see you once more... Say goodbye and ask forgiveness..." His strength was all but spent and he was whispering again. "And warn you... You must run..."

"What do you mean, goodbye?" Victoria could not believe her own ears. "What do you mean, we should run? And what has that got to do with me bandaging your wound? Do you mean to bleed to death?"

"Better that way. I don't much fancy an execution," Diego sighed. He turned his head so that his cheek was resting against Victoria's shoulder. "I'd rather stay with you... But the _alcalde_... The _alcalde_ will kill you..."

The _alcalde_. Suddenly Victoria understood what he meant. A wound on Diego, shortly after the soldiers had shot at Zorro – it would be enough to convince anybody. They could not hide the injury, or Zorro's conspicuous disappearance while Diego was incapacitated. In any case, the _alcalde_ wouldn't need much proof. He not only hated Zorro, but also had reasons to dislike both her and Don Alejandro. Felipe for his part counted for nothing; Ramone could send him to the gallows merely because he happened to live at the de la Vega hacienda. No wonder the wounded Diego, or rather Zorro, was thinking about her safety, and the safety of his father. At once she realised what it must have been like, to lie here alone, desperate, bleeding, waiting to make his farewells and warn her about the danger she was in. She knew why he was so resigned to his inevitable death, whether it would be from the wound or at the _alcalde's_ hand.

But she was not resigned at all. She gently lowered Diego back to his pallet and shifted on her knees to look into his face.

"No," she said. "I will not run."

Beside her Felipe was gesturing wildly. He touched Zorro's shoulder, shook his head, drew a "Z" sign in the air, pointed at Toronado a few times, and finally tapped on his forehead insistently as if he were trying to make the man see reason. At length, Diego shook his head.

"Won't work this time... Not a wound I can hide... Run..."

"No! You'll think of something! You must! You can't just go and die on me!" Victoria exploded. Her fear, sadness and despair had given way to irritation. She might not have spoken to Zorro that way, but now that he was also Don Diego, she had no qualms about it. "Zorro, if you don't think of something at once, I'll kill you myself, I swear!"

The violence of her statement brought a smile to Diego's face. It was the same insolent little smirk that she had on occasion seen on Zorro's lips. Victoria fell silent at once, and Felipe started in shock. He pointed at her, then at Diego, then made a sign as if he were aiming a gun.

"No, Felipe..." sighed Diego. "The _alcalde_ would kill her for this. And I wouldn't be there to help, so it would all come out."

Felipe rubbed his forehead in thought, then suddenly darted to his feet. He mimed a whole sequence of events, touching his face to signal something, aiming a gun at Victoria, struggling with an unseen enemy. Diego watched his every move closely.

"Yes..." he finally said. "Yes..." Suddenly his eyes opened wide. "What time is it?"

"Late. Must be midnight, I think."

"This... this might just work!" he said, suddenly energised. "Felipe!" In spite of his weakness, his voice once again had that steely tone she had heard Zorro use. "Bring me Diego's clothes! We must return to the pueblo!"

"Why?" Victoria interrupted. "You're still bleeding! I need to dress your wound!"

"No. Felipe, go! We must stage a robbery."

"A robbery?" She stared at him, amazed.

"Yes, a robbery." Diego looked back at her, suddenly animated and determined. "I will be attacked and shot in your tavern..."

 _"Jesucristo!"_ Victoria crossed herself. "This will work! But how shall we get there?"

"We'll ride. Felipe will tie me to Toronado's saddle."

"Are you mad? You're bleeding. You won't survive this."

"I'd rather die in this way than at the _alcalde's_ gallows. At your side, not along with you," replied Zorro. For she had no doubt that it was Zorro talking right now – a weak, injured Zorro, dying perhaps, but still determined to save the people he loved. "And one more thing. If I should die from my wound, you will put the blame on Zorro."

"No!"

"Yes. If he shoots his rival, even by accident," he smiled to soften the harshness of his words, "no one will wonder why he's disappeared. No one will be looking for him at all."

X X X

The sky over Los Angeles was already beginning to brighten with the dawn when Victoria looked around the main room of the tavern. Everything was ready. A plate with some bread scraps on the table, a jug, two glasses, a puddle of wine, an overturned bench nearby – all told the story of a late supper cut suddenly short. Diego was lying on the floor. He was paler and weaker than a few hours ago; his white shirt was soaked through with blood. The pool of blood on the floor by his side was Felipe's work, though – he had appropriated a chicken somewhere in the outskirts of Los Angeles, and spilled its blood around to lend credence to the story of Diego's wound. The boy was already gone, hiding outside the kitchen door in Zorro's black clothes, ready to playact an escape or a chase after the killer.

Victoria picked up a pistol, loaded only with gunpowder. It was a heavy, crude weapon, such as an unknown vagrant might be expected to carry. Felipe had unearthed it from some nook of the cave. Holding it, she knelt at Diego's side.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yes." He smiled feebly without opening his eyes. Even though she had put a new bandage on him in the end, even though Toronado had a remarkably steady gait, the ride from the cave had been hard on Diego. Not all the blood on his shirt came from the chicken, especially now that Felipe had removed his bandages and taken them with him. Even so, Zorro smiled and added, "Kiss me."

She did as he asked. His lips were dry and cold, tasting a little of the wine she had forced him to swallow.

"I love you," he whispered when she raised her head.

"I love you too."

"Just by the side, remember. It must be a fresh shot, from the struggle."

Victoria put the barrel of the pistol to her lover's side and pulled the trigger. When the shot rang out, she flung the weapon aside and started screaming for help. A short while afterwards she heard the thudding of Toronado's hooves somewhere outside.

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 _To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** _One more time – thanks for reviews! And… Now, when Victoria knows his secret, Zorro won't give up, that's sure. It's not easy though..._

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CHAPTER THREE

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Los Angeles was abuzz.

Day-to-day conversation in the sleepy pueblo usually revolved around farming, pastures and problems with the water supply. The _alcalde's_ eccentric and selfish decrees, his attempts to raise the taxes or organise the traffic were also a popular subject for grumbling over a cup of wine. Zorro's actions were equally widely discussed, being as they were a welcome distraction from the drab, sun-scorched daily grind, as well as a source of amusement, good cheer and a sense of justice and safety. When the black-clad rider disarmed another group of lancers in the middle of the square, everyone knew that the _alcalde_ would not step outside the _cuartel_ that evening. Sergeant Mendoza would bring him his supper, leaving the laughing peons and _caballeros_ to sit at Victoria's tavern and jokingly comment on the latest events.

This time, however, the latest events proved to be all too eventful.

Firstly, the dam and the new lake which was supposed to guarantee a supply of water for the area. This alone required careful consideration; however, before the inhabitants of the pueblo could reach an agreement on how best to make use of this novelty, the problem of the labourers' wages came up. This was a source of many complaints, both among the simple peons and among the _caballeros_ , who felt that they had been cheated and insulted by the _alcalde_. Whenever they were removed from the _cuartel_ , they would walk straight to the tavern, to vent their frustrations over a glass of wine. The resolution of the matter, with two spectacular appearances from Zorro, would have been enough to provide everyone with something to discuss for weeks to come. One did not often have the chance to see Luis Ramone, _alcalde_ of Los Angeles, parted from his money at sword's point. As always whenever that happened, people were quick to reminisce about past occasions that had ended in a similar fashion.

But before the tales and the gossip could get started in earnest, before everyone had gone over the whys and wherefores of Ramone's previous encounters with Zorro's blade, they were brought to an end by the story of an audacious robbery. The victim was to be none other than Señorita Victoria Escalante, surprised by an unknown assailant in the main room of the tavern shortly before dawn. She had been saved only because of the presence of Don Diego de la Vega, who – without any regards for his personal safety – rose in her defence and received a wound that was likely to be mortal.

Rumour followed upon rumour, each more fantastical than the last. Don Diego was said to have fought valiantly, trashing the tavern in the process, before being overpowered by his attacker. No, said other people, commonly those who had spent that night at the inn. There had been no noise and no fighting. They were all awoken by a shot and Victoria's scream, and all they heard afterwards was the sound of a horse riding away at a gallop. The stranger must have escaped very quickly. Others were wondering why Victoria had not called for help earlier on; others still, who the brazen intruder might be, and whether he would be caught.

The _alcalde's_ reluctance to chase him was another topic of conversation, though no one was particularly surprised by his inaction. It was widely known that the soldiers from the garrison were more likely to ride in pursuit of Zorro than to search after a common bandit. Whatever crime had been committed, it did not count for very much, unless the victim was Luis Ramone himself. Therefore, after a day had passed without any steps being taken, Don Alejandro himself went to see the _alcalde_. The _caballero_ was shocked by what had befallen his son. After a long discussion, Sergeant Mendoza paid a very respectful visit to the distraught Señorita Escalante, heard her relation about the night's events, and finally led a patrol to look for the attacker. They returned in the evening, empty-handed, dusty and tired. According to what Mendoza reported, rinsing his parched throat with some wine, they had seen no one but a few local peons on their way – and Zorro, just once and from afar. They had not chased after him, the sergeant tried to explain to a furious _alcalde_ , because Zorro had been very far away and seemed to be in a hurry, preoccupied by something on the ground. He might not even have seen the patrol pass him by.

That chance meeting put new questions in people's minds. Could it be that Zorro was pursuing the robber? And if he was, why hadn't he caught him and brought him back to the pueblo yet? He was, after all, not indifferent to Señorita Victoria's charms. Even with all his nonchalance and teasing behaviour, he had always paid special attention to her alone. The inhabitants of Los Angeles were once again gathering at the tavern, drinking the wine distributed by the two serving girls Victoria had hired, and debating what events might have taken place that night.

Señorita Escalante herself was rarely seen these days. Don Diego lay in one of the guest rooms on the first floor. The doctor had strictly forbidden moving him to the hacienda – the rocking of the cart on a bumpy road would surely reopen the young de la Vega's wound and bring about his death.A death – the doctor predicted – that might come at any moment regardless. It was a bad sign that the injured man had not recovered consciousness after fainting on the floor of the tavern. Don Diego had lost a great amount of blood, the shock of which brought about a fever, and his weakened body had no strength left to fight it. The young _caballero_ was too far gone even for delirium.

Victoria did not leave the sick man's side, then, in the hope that her ministrations and care might help him at least a little. Whenever she grew too weak with fatigue and anxiety, Don Alejandro took up the vigil in her stead. The deaf-mute boy, Felipe, also watched over Don Diego ceaselessly from the corner of the room. If the señorita ever came down to the main room of the tavern, it was usually to draw some fresh water into a jug, and then her drawn, grief-stricken face and the dark circled under her eyes commanded a respectful silence. Few were brave enough to question her; only the kindly, artless Sergeant Mendoza would always ask after Don Diego's health, loudly expressing his hopes that the doctor had been mistaken, and that the wounded man would recover after all.

It was then that a new piece of gossip joined the others circulating through Los Angeles. At first no one knew where it had originated. Some people had already pointed out that it was unusual for de la Vega to visit Victoria so late in the evening, but the rumour's anonymous author was the first to claim that there might have been no attack at all – or rather, that if one had occurred, Victoria was certainly not the intended victim. Simply put, someone had raised the suspicion that the unfortunate shot might have been fired during a quarrel between Diego and Zorro, fighting over a lover. If that had not been the case, the gossip-mongers asked, what had Diego been doing at Victoria's tavern shortly before dawn? There was no ill-feeling in the rumour, though. Eccentric though he was, DonDiego was generally well-liked by the pueblo's inhabitants. Señorita Victoria was similarly popular, not only for her determination in holding on to the establishment she had inherited from her father, but also for the courage with which she always involved herself in the squabbles between the people of Los Angeles and their _alcalde_. If there were tender feelings between the pair, no one could begrudge them too much, not even if Zorro himself had stood between them. Instead, most were inclined to bemoan the unfortunate turn of events, although there were some who wagged their heads over the future fate of the señorita.

The rumour, like others before it, reached many ears, including those of Don Alejandro himself. Since the tragic night, he had been dividing his time between his son's sickbed, the _alcalde's_ office and the areas around Los Angeles. When the regular patrols had brought no news of the intruder, the elder de la Vega saddled his horse and went out to continue the search himself. He returned in the evening, tired but oddly calm, and never again raised the matter of having the soldiers out in pursuit. That same evening he sat in his son's room for a very long time. He watched as Victoria replaced the cold compress on the wounded man's forehead, and then again, and again. He saw Diego open his eyes several times – feverish at first, then visibly calmer at the sight of the girl sitting at his side. There were moments when Don Alejandro seemed to want to speak, but he held his silence every time. Perhaps he was afraid that he might say something that would make his son's last living moments even harder.

But the young de la Vega knew how to go against people's expectations, it appeared. The doctor's sombre predictions went unfulfilled for the first two days. On the third day the fever broke and the patient fell into a deep sleep from which he could not be awoken, not even to take in some nourishing chicken broth. Doctor Hernandez was of the opinion that this slumber was not a sign of recovery but rather of a final collapse, and that Don Diego's life would simply flicker out, like a burnt-out candle. Victoria, however, took heart. Now, when people asked her how Diego was doing, she would answer that he was asleep, and smile a hopeful, radiant smile. Her hopes were not in vain. Don Diego woke up, at first only for a moment, but he appeared stronger with each subsequent awakening.

And because Diego was obviously determined to remain alive, Don Alejandro decided that it was time to take some necessary steps. When Victoria passed him by on the stairs, hurrying off to Diego's room with a bowl of broth in her hands, he asked if he could have a few words with her later.

He joined her in the room shortly after, but did not begin the conversation immediately. At first he only sat down in an armchair and studied her and his son together. Diego was asleep or resting, eyes closed and face ingeniously hidden from the light of the lamp. Victoria sat at his bedside, holding his hand. Every once in a while she touched his forehead, as if to check that the fever had not returned. Don Alejandro could not delay any longer.

"Some time ago," he began, "I heard a number of rumours about what had happened that night." Victoria turned to him, unsure what he meant. "I know I should not be repeating them, but there is one in particular which is too persistent for me to stay silent."

"Which one?" she asked without much interest. At the moment nothing but Diego mattered to her.

"It's no gossip, really," Don Alejandro sighed. "It's more of a question. What was Diego doing in your tavern before sunrise?"

Victoria raised a hand to her mouth in fear.

"Stupid, stupid..." she whispered. "I didn't think. Neither of us thought..."

"Shh, my girl," Don Alejandro touched her shoulder in a soothing manner. "I'm not blaming you."

"But..."

"Don't you worry. Once Diego is well again, he will put it all to rights."

"Diego? This can't be, I..."

"Victoria, hear me out." De la Vega raised a hand to silence her. "It's true that your mother was an Indian and your father an innkeeper, while the de la Vega family is one of the oldest in the territory, with traditions that hail back to the Moorish Wars. But among these traditions is this: we value integrity and courage more than anything else. The circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. More than that, you're the daughter of a friend of mine. Victoria Escalante, if you should accept, I will be more than happy to welcome you as my son's future wife. I know he could have made no better choice."

"Don Alejandro..."

"After I'd heard the rumours, I watched you. I had my doubts. I didn't doubt that Diego would survive, although I worried about him greatly. I doubted your feelings about him. But I have seen you during those terrible days, and now I can tell for sure that you do love him."

"It's true, Don Alejandro." Victoria raised her head proudly. "I love him, and he loves me back."

"I can promise you won't be disappointed in him. I know Diego can appear ineffectual, he has some strange ideas, he seems to shrink back from fights – but these are only appearances. In truth, he is upright and brave. You will see this one day, I promise you."

"Don Alejandro, you don't need to convince me."

"I know, I can see that," de la Vega smiled. "Perhaps I need some convincing myself. Before this all, I only knew you as a proud and beautiful young woman, attracted to the courage and daring of Zorro. Now I've noticed that you value my son as well. You know, there's more thing I need to tell you: you remind me of his mother. You're brave and beautiful, just like her. Everything will turn out fine, you'll see."

Don Alejandro gave Victoria's shoulder another reassuring pat and walked out of the room. He had not noticed, as he was leaving, that Diego was watching him closely through narrowed eyes…

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** One more time – thank you, dizzy fire!_

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

* * *

There was no telling whether the rumours caused the _alcalde_ to be suspicious. He (aided by Sergeant Mendoza's irrepressible chattiness) might well have been the author of a number of them, after all – particularly those that painted Zorro, Don Diego and Victoria Escalante in the most unflattering light. It was widely known there was no love lost between Luis Ramone and the señoritaor the de la Vega family. Therefore, when the gossip had reached him, he might have concluded that it was a good opportunity to settle some scores with Don Diego, his father, Victoria, and, indirectly, with Zorro himself. The outlaw had been disconcertingly absent for a few days, until one of the soldiers saw him again, talking to Victoria in the balcony of the tavern, which might have influenced the _alcalde's_ actions as much as the earlier rumours. Or perhaps at some point while sipping his wine Ramone had simply heard one of the guests swear that Victoria and Diego had not been in the main room when he had come down there during that night.

One way or another, the _alcalde_ made a decision. Ten days after the attack he called for an assembly in the main room of the tavern. The doctor would not agree to have his patient moved anywhere farther than that, and, in addition, Ramone's hints about wanting to determine what had really happened brought in nearly all the inhabitants of the pueblo and the surrounding area.

Before the assembly started, Don Alejandro rushed upstairs, to his son's room. Diego was ready. Face newly shaven, he was resting in a wide armchair. Victoria knelt at his side. They were whispering to each other urgently. As his father walked into the room, Diego had just kissed the inside of Victoria's palm, and she hugged his hand to her cheek.

"Diego," Don Alejandro cleared his throat. The tenderness between them tugged at his heart.

"Yes?" His son looked at him calmly.

"It's time. Everyone has gathered downstairs. The _alcalde_ is about to send some soldiers to fetch you."

"Sadly," smiled Diego, "I can't get downstairs on my own, just yet. So be it, then. Let's get this over with. Will you call for them?"

When Don Alejandro turned towards the door to call the soldiers in, he noticed Diego and Victoria exchange a smile; not like a pair of lovers, but as two warriors smiling before battle to keep up their courage.

Don Diego was carried down to the centre of the main room with extreme caution, wrapped in a blanket and seated in a wide armchair lined with pillows. Victoria and Don Alejandro took their seats at his side.

"We are gathered here..." Ramone began. "We are all gathered to determine what really happened ten days ago. Because I must inform you that things did not play out quite as you all believe. Today the truth will be revealed and the guilty parties will be judged."

"What exactly do you mean to reveal?" asked Don Alejandro.

"The truth," the _alcalde_ repeated. "Señorita Victoria, could you remind us what exactly occurred that night?"

"I've told you once already," she replied. "Why should I have to remember those terrible moments again, in front of everyone?"

"And I'm telling you, Señorita," said the _alcalde_ , "that you lied to us then and you're lying even now."

"What?" several people in the room cried out.

"Why should I be lying?" Victoria tossed her head proudly.

"To protect your lover, Zorro."

"Señor!" Don Diego tugged at his blanket. "If I could but lift a sword..."

"We'd have a duel at once, I know..." the _alcalde_ laughed derisively. "But you can't, and I'm still saying that Señorita Victoria lied. There are witnesses. You were not at the tavern that night, and Zorro was seen in the outskirts of the pueblo immediately after the shot was heard. So I'd like her to confess what really happened here, with everyone present, before I decide that she is responsible for your near-fatal injury."

"When I'm strong enough to stand..." Diego drawled out, suddenly oblivious to his father's hand on his shoulder. "When I'm strong enough to stand and lift my sword, I shall demand satisfaction for these words, _alcalde_!"

" _Alcalde_ , if you don't stop with your insinuations at once," Don Alejandro cut in, "I will challenge you in my son's stead, to defend the honour of his bride!"

His words threw the room into a hubbub. Don Alejandro, the first among Los Angeles' _caballeros_ , declaring that Señorita Victoria Escalante, a half-Indian innkeeper, was his son's intended bride? Los Angeles had never seen the like. The harsh words had exhausted Don Diego's strength, though, and the wounded man slumped back onto the pillows. He and Victoria exchanged a long glance, as if talking silently, and the girl rose.

"Very well." She proudly raised her head. "Very well, _alcalde_ , you've forced me to tell you the whole truth and nothing but the truth. We weren't at the tavern that night – this much is true. That evening, when I was already locking up," she began her tale in earnest, "Don Diego arrived to see me. He was returning home from the lake, saw the light and came in to eat his supper and talk to me. But I had another visitor that night, too. Zorro appeared only moments later."

Whispers rippled through the room. Nobody doubted that Victoria was telling the truth. Only Don Alejandro looked at the girl with wide-eyed surprise.

"Zorro appeared," she continued, "and he was pleased to see Don Diego."

"He was pleased?" interrupted Mendoza.

"Silence, Sergeant," Ramone waved his hand.

"Yes," replied Victoria, "he was pleased. You all know he cares about me." She blushed but did not lower her eyes. "He hoped to explain..."

"He wanted to speak with me," Don Diego cut in. "Since the conversation might well prove quite emotional, the three of us left the tavern."

"Conversation? About what?"

"That, _alcalde_ , is no business of yours."

"Oh, but it is, it is... I want to know what you were plotting."

"We were plotting nothing!" Victoria cried out. "Diego and Zorro only wanted to settle the matters between us. Which one of them would be allowed to court me."

Gasps were heard around the room. Everyone knew that Zorro was courting Señorita Escalante, and Don Diego might not have been as demonstrative of his feelings as that, but he clearly cared for her as well.

"In a duel?" Mendoza asked loudly in surprise. He only said what everyone else was thinking – that Diego, known for his aversion to weapons, had stood no chance against a seasoned fighter like Zorro.

"No, not in a duel!" Victoria replied fiercely. "We talked! We talked for a long time, and they agreed to leave the decision to me. And I, may God forgive me, I made my choice! I made my choice!" she cried and fell to her knees by Diego's armchair, hiding her face in her hands.

In the hubbub of surprised whispers from the pueblo's inhabitants, Diego put his arms around the girl's shoulders.

"Yes, Victoria made her choice," he said in a voice that was faint but steady. "She chose me."

More noise from the crowd. The news was so shocking that everyone present felt the need to express their opinion. It was some time before the sergeant was able to restore order, and no one noticed that the door to one of the rooms upstairs had opened just a crack.

"And Zorro?" the _alcalde_ finally asked. "Didn't he accept your choice, then?"

"Zorro did accept it," Victoria said. She dried her tears. "He'd agreed to let me decide, and he accepted my decision afterwards."

Diego gently took hold of her hand. She thanked him with a smile before she spoke again.

"We returned to the tavern. It had been a long, difficult conversation, so I wanted to offer Diego at least a slice of bread – we still had a lot to talk about between the two of us. But when we walked in..."

"I had just poured us some wine," Diego joined in, "when a man I didn't know rose up from behind the bar. He must have entered the tavern while we were out – we did leave the door unlocked. He had a shawl wrapped around his face and a gun in his hand. I expect we surprised him when he was looking for money at the bar... He ordered us to keep silent. I was afraid he would shoot Victoria, so I tried to get closer to him, to shield her..."

"Then Zorro appeared. He'd followed us and must have seen what was happening through a window. He wanted to disarm the man, but before he could get close enough, he stepped on a creaky floorboard and the bandit heard him," Victoria continued. "He turned around and Diego jumped him, catching his hand. They started to struggle and... the gun went off. Zorro couldn't help him in time."

"And then what?"

"That man escaped. He pushed Zorro away from the door and ran for it. Diego was wounded, I thought he was dead, I tried to stop the bleeding... Zorro didn't know if he should help me or chase after the man that did it. He pursued him, but lost him in some alley. He didn't know where to go until he heard the horse."

"But he didn't catch him?"

"Unfortunately not."

"He was seen here yesterday."

"That's right. He came by every evening to ask about Diego."

"We're friends, _alcalde_ ," Diego interrupted. "That's why there was no duel. And why he feared for my life."

"Friends?"

"Any right-thinking man in Los Angeles is a friend of Zorro. This is the truth about what happened that night – the whole truth." Diego put an arm around Victoria's shoulders and turned to his father. "Father, I did not mean for you to find out like this."

The _alcalde_ deliberated for a moment. Finally, he declared, "I don't believe you."

"I suggest that you try."

"I'd rather have you both arrested, I think."

"I'd advise against it." Diego was imperturbable. He raised his hand. "Zorro might beg to differ."

Before the _alcalde_ could reply, an arrow whistled through the room and hit one of the pillars with a thud. A piece of paper slipped off the shaft and landed on Mendoza's head. The sergeant jumped up and showed everyone whose sign was drawn on it. "It's Zorro!" he cried out.

"What? He's here?"

A horse whinnied outside, causing an uproar. The soldiers pushed through the crowd to try and get to the door and windows, the _alcalde_ cursed and hurled abuse. Before he managed to give any orders, though, Diego spoke up again.

"Zorro is waiting for you, _alcalde_ ," he said calmly. "Do you really want to face him? After what you said about my fiancée?"

Luis Ramone looked at him angrily, then turned towards the door, still blocked by the inhabitants of the pueblo and the thronging soldiers. He gave up.

* * *

 _To be continue…_


	5. EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

* * *

Don Alejandro looked into his son's room. Diego was recovering quickly – they had returned to the hacienda a few days ago already – so this seemed to be the right time and place to have a long-delayed conversation. Especially since Victoria had come to visit.

Diego was sitting at the table, leaning against Victoria's shoulder. Felipe must have decided to play chaperone, for he was studiously reading a book nearby. Don Alejandro paused for a moment to watch his son. His wound and illness seemed to have transformed him; though he was still visibly weakened, the lethargy and absent-mindedness, previously so characteristic of him, were now gone. He was speaking with Victoria in an animated fashion, pointing at something in his notes.

"Excuse my interruption," Don Alejandro began. "I know I should not disturb the bride- and groom-to-be, but I wanted to ask you something. Or rather, I wanted to tell you something that should be important to all of us. I have postponed it thus far so I could speak to you freely."

"Father..."

"A moment, Diego. You'll presently need to tell me how you were going to inform me about your engagement. And when it was that you proposed in the first place."

"Well, Father..."

"A moment, Diego, I said. First, I need you to know something. When I was around Felipe's age, I frequently felt that my time would be better spent in the saddle, somewhere out in the hills, rather than pouring over books. I would then slip out of the house; my father must have often regretted ever showing great-grandfather's secret passage to me. Yes, Diego, I mean the passage in the fireplace."

Victoria froze, Felipe opened his eyes wide in terror, and Diego... Diego only turned his head a little to the side and smiled.

"I should've expected this," he stated. Don Alejandro noticed how steady and resolute his son sounded – how much like Zorro's usual way of speaking. "Have you known for long?"

"I checked it shortly after your return," sighed Don Alejandro. "I had my suspicions from the moment I first saw Zorro, and the change in you would not stop troubling me. I know you, my son, like the back of my own hand. You're proud, courageous, upright, sometimes hotheaded. You love learning, but you love justice no less. I knew your studies could not have changed you, not to this extent – but something else could. Something that was so important to you that you decided to deny your very nature. Not that you always managed to do it perfectly, mind."

"So you knew, and yet you pretended not to," Diego sighed.

"Just so. If only you knew how often I feared for your safe return when I watched Zorro racing the soldiers... I can't forgive myself that I didn't go to check if you had got back this time. I would've found you earlier."

"It wouldn't have made that much of a difference, Father. Either way we'd still have had to hide the fact that I had been shot," Diego replied. "Believe me, Father, it was not so bad."

"Not so bad?"

"No. To tell the truth, before this there was only one occasion when I thought that I'd lost and that my time had come. Back then, I was saved by the persistence of Felipe and Toronado."

"When?" asked Victoria.

"Remember my funeral?" Zorro said with a laugh. Listening to him, Don Alejandro did not doubt for a moment that Zorro was his true son; that it wasn't so much that Diego was putting on a mask, but rather that Zorro was hiding in the guise of Diego.

"I do remember!" The girl sprang up. "But you... You told me you'd fallen off your horse! I mocked you for being thrown off by that lazy old nag! How could you!"

"Back then, I couldn't have admitted where I had really fallen." Zorro touched her hand soothingly. "And your laughing at Diego protected me well."

"And this time..." his father interrupted.

"And this time, it was Victoria who saved me." Diego-Zorro smiled tenderly. "But, Father, I'm glad you know the truth. I had been meaning to tell you, to be honest, but I kept delaying. My heart feels lighter now. It all started as a way to knock the _alcalde_ down a peg, and maybe have a little fun into the bargain, but it has since become a fight to the death."

"To the death? My son, aren't you being a little dramatic?"

Diego laughed a little.

"Perhaps I am, Father. But when one thinks one's life is about to end, being dramatic begins to look appealing. I feared for you all – I feared what might happen when the _alcalde_ realised that Diego de la Vega was Zorro."

"For us all – so Felipe knows already?"

Felipe nodded vigorously.

"He's known from the start. There were many things I couldn't have done without his help."

"Like Zorro riding out of the pueblo, and that arrow over the sergeant's head?"

"Like that, yes."

"Haven't you played it a little risky? How did he know when to shoot? Did you signal to him?"

"I did."

Victoria looked at Diego intently. She wanted to mention something that she had just remembered, but Zorro gave her hand a light squeeze. She understood. There were some secrets that should remain as such, even though Zorro had given up a part of his mystery. Don Alejandro nodded. Many things were much clearer to him now.

"Then there is only one more question I need to ask."

"About the engagement?" Victoria said.

"No, we can talk about it some other time," Don Alejandro answered. "I need to know your plans for the future. What's going to happen now that we all know your secret, Diego?"

"I don't know." The young de la Vega's face darkened. "Nothing could make me happier than taking Zorro's mask off for Victoria at the altar, but..."

"The _alcalde_ ," Victoria fairly spat out the words.

"No, Zorro will deal with the _alcalde_. Sooner rather than later, I think." Diego's voice had a steely tone to it. "But I've told you, Father, that Zorro's legend has got out of my control. I can't put down the mask any more."

"He's right, Don Alejandro," Victoria cut in. "Everyone's counting on Zorro so much."

"That's it. Zorro might be needed later on, too. And if it's common knowledge that Diego is Zorro, anyone wanting to strike out at Zorro will strike at my family first."

"So Zorro will need to keep his mask..."

"Yes," Diego said without his customary cheerfulness. There was no amusement in his voice, only steel. "Zorro will need to keep his mask."

* * *

THE END

* * *

A/N: _Thank you again for reviews!_ _This is the last_ _chapter, but dizzy fire soon_ _translate_ _the next part._


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